I suspect I’ll be suspicious for my whole life that Saturday night is sleeping with Sunday morning.

A half-open window.Morning-fresh air carriescurious sunlight into a bedroom.Flecks of dust shimmer yellow-gold.Four feet, entwined under white sheets.Joni’s Blue, on the player.Delicate curtains slow-danceto Sunday’s tune.Laughter.Talk of: what for breakfast?Anything. Anything at all.

JASON: ‘Intended wings.’ How depressing.MICHAEL: Yes. Makes them into suicides, really, the pigeons.JASON: No – no, it doesn’t. It could mean the wings were ‘intended’ to carry them upwards, out of the darkness, but they...

The church is constituted as a new people who have been gathered from the nations to remind the world that we are in fact one people. Gathering, therefore, is an eschatological act as it is...